A Story of Honor

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Gear

Yesterday, 22-year-old Zach Taylor, a graduate of Grand County High School and student at the University of Utah, died in a rappelling accident. Zach’s kind father happens to be a volunteer for the mentoring program I oversee. I know nothing about the circumstances of Zach’s death, except what his mother shared in a public Facebook update:

“I had the most amazing day with my son, Zach Taylor on Saturday. It was just the two of us, and our dog Ubu, going on an adventure. I didn’t realize it would be part of a goodbye. He died yesterday while hiking and rappelling with friends, doing what he loved to do most. Anyone who knows me personally knows that I call him, unabashedly, my favorite child. And his siblings handled my favoritism well, because they admitted that he, too, was their favorite sibling. Zach was pure energy. May he continue to be so in this next life as well.”

Many people decry risky pursuits as selfish (such as canyoneering deep in the backcountry). Yet Zach’s mother handles the circumstances with utter understanding. In fact, her online elegy flies in the face of a recent blog post by Steve Casimiro. In this post, Steve wrote:

“‘Hey, Glenn,’ I said to my partner. ‘If anything ever happens to me out here, make sure my mom knows I died doing something I loved.’ He nodded gravely, a solemn promise made.

“Today, with many years under my belt and the loss of too many friends in falls, avalanches, and accidents, I cringe at the memory. It sounds like one of the tritest, most self-absorbed, and most post-adolescently melodramatic comments I could make. What a tool.

“Of course I would have died doing something I loved. That was self-evident. My parents knew I loved climbing, skiing, mountain biking. But as I consider it now, I realize that I didn’t actually intend the comment as an explanation, as solace for a grieving parent to help them better understand their son. No, I meant it as a justification for a selfish act and a mistake made, as if screwing up doing something fun made it okay that I screwed up.”

Meanwhile, Zach’s mother seems to take solace from the fact that her son died doing something he loved, even if that act resulted in disaster, possibly from a mistake. And why shouldn’t she? Naturally, life is preferable, but isn’t it better that her son died in a climbing accident rather than from, say, a random dose of food poisoning? He died in the pursuit of his dreams, in the wild canyons of adventure. Regardless of whether the accident was preventable or not, Zach was doing something he loved, probably riding high.

CanyonEvery adventurer who knowingly (but not recklessly) risks the ultimate cost has earned my respect. So too have hobbyists of mellower pursuits. They have all chosen causes that transcend the mundane requirements of life through bowling and playing music… or mountains and big waves and dirt bikes and BASE jumping and riding horses, because life would otherwise mean too little. I honor their selection of the right tools to make meaning for themselves. I honor them by calling death untimely but not tragedy. Sad? Yes. Are we bereft of good people like Zach? Yes. But I will not dishonor my friend’s big life choice that put her forever under an avalanche in the Himalaya or Michael Reardon’s soloing pursuit that put him under the cold waters of the North Atlantic. Their decisions did not end in senseless deaths. No, they resulted in lives powerfully lived, albeit shorter than most.

I salute also those who recognize in others the primacy of instinct. Apparently Zach always loved to climb. His mother, still perfectly unapologetic about her son’s native spirit, went on to share a Facebook link to this story of his childhood:

“A couple of months into school I was asked to visit with his teacher. It seems that Zach was getting in trouble for climbing. He climbed the fences. He climbed the walls. He climbed onto the roof. He climbed onto the top of the swingset. He climbed onto the top of the slide where you’re not supposed to climb.

“The teacher told me all of this very emphatically with a scowl and furrowed brows. I nodded, listened. Inside I was thinking how incredibly adventurous my son was and was giving him a mental high five. Perhaps reading my thoughts, she decided to scold me like she had been scolding him, ‘Don’t you know how dangerous that could be? He could fall!’

“I said I would talk with him. And I did.

“‘Don’t climb at school.’

“And then I bought him a membership at a local climbing gym.”

I’m glad Zach’s mother hasn’t dishonored her son by labeling his passions selfish. Every pursuit (and every act) is fundamentally selfish, unless it happens to coincidentally benefit others. It’s nobody’s fault that some hobbies are more dangerous than others. I can blame nobody for the fact that beach volleyball doesn’t tickle me. And therefore, I allow others to chart their crazy courses as best they can without my passing judgment on the roots of their desire.

While some may argue about what is or isn’t an acceptable level of risk, I hope the people who love Zach will do his memory the courtesy of recognizing his decisions as central to the tenets of the person he was. I will celebrate the life he lived even though I didn’t know him.

BoulderingAnd if I die rock climbing or mountain biking or on an adventure, I hope my family and friends take comfort from the idea that I died doing something I loved. It will require a big mistake or an act of god to snuff out this life – which, by the way, could also occur on the interstate – because I do want to live. I am careful out there, by my definition of the word. I want to climb and laugh and hug another day. But if some hazard, whether objective or subjective, takes me out, please be consoled by the fact that it happened when I was seeking that which makes life meaningful.

If I die from botulism, though, feel free to call it tragedy.

So yes. I ask you, those whom I love, to take care while in pursuit of your dreams. I want to share in future adventures. I want to hear about the meaning you’ve made using the tools and variables at your disposal. And I hope you will forgive me if I judge your life well lived regardless of how it might end but rather by the light of your inspiration.

Mountain

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The Answer to Hate

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I wonder how to alleviate intolerance and antagonism such as this. If you haven’t already seen it, take a look at Russesl Brand’s interview of Steve Drain and Timothy Phelps from Westboro Baptist Church.

Remember, I totally acknowledge that Mr. Drain and Mr. Phelps are no more responsible for their beliefs and actions than I am. With so many people in the world, we’re bound to see bigotry and moral certitude expressed by some folks, simply based on probability. These people haven’t invented something new. Human beings have been carrying out inquisitions and witch-hunts since time immemorial. (See Cullen Murhpy’s book, “God’s Jury; the Inquisition and the Making of the Modern World,”)

Admittedly, the threat of a make-believe punishment (Hell) is far sweeter than the real tortures carried out by the Sacred Congregation of the Holy Roman and Universal Inquisition. In other words, it’s not horribly difficult to withstand the vitriol of an angry pastor when compared to the interrogations of the Inquisition. Instead of burning people at the stake, now they appear as guests on a liberal talk show and spout Bible passages. That’s progress.

Nevertheless, I have to ask: What’s the antidote to their homophobic, absolutist approach, an approach that vilifies human beings for the circumstances of their lives and minds? I’m not looking to vilify Mr. Drain and Mr. Phelps. I simply wonder if there’s a way to make sense of and mitigate their destructive influence.

For a while, I didn’t make the connection.

Then, lying in bed this morning, I realized the antidote to ridiculous religious behavior and thinking is – of course – atheism.

CC:             “[I’m] openly gay. And [I’m] a Christian.”

Timothy:    “You’re a filthy pervert.”

CC:             “I’m an openly gay man, and I’m a Christian. Because God is love and his love is for everybody.”

Steve:        “Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind. It is abomination. That’s in the Bible that you say you believe.”

Russell:     “I don’t think it’s one of the most important bits.”

Steve:        “Hey listen. There’s not going to be any creation going on when two men get together. I can tell you that right now.”

Russel:      “What worries me, Steve, to follow the ‘you musn’t lay with men’ bit, you’ve got to ignore the tolerance and love bit. And that’s got to be more important. That’s like a subclause, that’s like small print.”

Steve:        “No it’s not. No it’s not.”

Russel:      “I don’t think they even meant that part.”

…

Cher:          “You guys have to be civil. We’re going to respect you, so you should respect us, okay?”

Timothy:    “You’re a sodomiser.”

…

Steve:         “We love you enough to tell you what God’s standard is.”

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Top Films of All Time

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Movies rise up in all shapes and sizes and so do critics! Some peanut gallery Frankensteins agree with me and some do not, so one of the things I’ve accepted about humanity is this: we represent a wide range of tastes. Some people want to live in New Jersey. They actually want to! Other folks disdain reading. Though I can’t empathize, I can sympathize, because I don’t want to live in New Jersey and I love reading – opposite sides of these proverbial coins.

Thus I offer this list of top films with a caveat. These are the movies that speak to me, and I am only one in about seven billion. Of course, I’m right, so look on my opinions ye mighty and despair!

(I’ll keep the spoilers to a minimum.)

Top Ten 

1. American Beauty

Since my mother despises this movie and it’s probably tied for number one on my list, this is another example of people’s conflicting views. And honestly, it’s hard to explain why American Beauty resonates with me. Must be something about the existential conversations within the plot – individual vs. the collective, beauty’s subjectivity, compassion and submission as deliverance, despair as destroyer – these huge topics come to life in a surprisingly quirky yet dark film.

2. Good Will Hunting

The year this debuted, 1997, Titanic won the Oscar for best picture. Such a result speaks to the power of money over soul. I like a tragedy as much as the next person (half the movies on this list serve as evidence), but the trite emotion and flimsy drama of Titanic just don’t measure up to the grit and character of Good Will Hunting. In fact, Titanic didn’t even make it onto this list, except as an overblown feature here in my commentary on Good Will Hunting. To get back on track, let me say this: this film deservedly won an Oscar for best original screenplay. If you haven’t seen it, you’re doing yourself injury. If you have viewed it and didn’t like (or love) it, you might be a cyborg.

3. The Bourne TRILOGY

Only the Matt Damon installments count. Only he can bring such depth to a kickass amnesiac. We own this package (Thank you, Eric!), and I can confidently announce these are the best action movies in history because they have both human insight and incredible energy. In our household, the first (The Bourne Identity) and third (The Bourne Ultimatum) marginally edge out the second (The Bourne Supremacy) in a head-to-head. But the whole package – well, these have legs to run and run.

4. The Departed

Another Matt Damon movie, and this time he’s paired with Leonardo DiCaprio. Finally, years after Good Will Hunting and Titanic, we get to see these competitors duke it out as double agents working for opposite sides. Enthralling storyline. Brilliant dialogue. Disturbing visuals. Amazing acting. Come on, what more do you want?

5. Star Wars Trilogy

The grainy originals, not the CG prequels with their glitzy, busy, annoying battle scenes and stilted acting. These movies helped to define my childhood. I don’t know if it’s a good thing that I grew up thinking there really was a Rancor out there in the universe, but I’m sure my powers of concentration benefited from many hours of trying to levitate a rock. Return of the Jedi has always been my favorite, notwithstanding the Ewoks. My wife’s favorite is The Empire Strikes Back.

6. Love Actually

Hey, romantic comedies don’t get any better. Ensemble casts don’t either. Every time I watch it, I’m pleased, especially around Christmas. Aside from one storyline (I’ll let you be judge), I admire how the characters’ stories hit the mark. Endearing individuals weave together in heartbreaking, uplifting, and funny style, making this viewer at least, believe love actually is all around us. Of course, then we go on to the next title on the list, and all hope for a happy ending (and decent second and third acts) goes up in flames…

7. Atonement

Moviemaking doesn’t get any better than the first forty minutes. Though I shrug off the last two thirds of this movie, the first act is enough to float it up (along with the help of my wife’s high opinion) to top ten. Keira Knightly is beautiful, of course, and acts beautifully. James McAvoy shows his depth. Together they soar, but it wouldn’t work without a young Saoirse Ronan, who, in my opinion, is the linchpin of believability for this wonderfully crummy tale.

8. Lord of the Rings Trilogy

It’s a rare movie that outdoes the book. Here are three such cases. It helps that the novels were overwrought and slow-paced, these scriptwriters adept, and the direction brilliant. When someone marries quintessential fantasy storytelling to singular cinematic vision, the audience– aw, hell, the whole world is elevated. (By the way, here’s another movie in the same genre, which outdoes the book and is worth watching: The Princess Bride.)

9. 3:10 to Yuma

A Western that caught me off guard. I like it. I don’t know why. That’s a pathetic review, I know, but you’ll just have to watch the movie and tell me why you agree (or disagree, I suppose). I’ll go ahead and mention another that vied for a spot on the top ten: True Grit. These movies, both Westerns, imbue story with sympathetic leads in a setting that seems altogether foreign yet familiar to me as I live in what was once the wild frontier.

10. The Town

Conflicted loyalties, earning a comeuppance, clinging tentacles of the past, romance – this movie lays out a lot of heart for a film about bank robbers. Maybe as a New Englander, I’m keen on this one because it’s set in Boston and features a scene from Fenway Park. Maybe I just like hearing that Boston accent, and this one rides high on the back of Good Will Hunting and The Departed. Whatever the case, in it Ben Affleck showcases his directing prowess, and Jeremy Renner plays the role he was born for.

Honorable Mentions

A short-list of more favorites, though I will admit that a few are absolute and enjoyable crap:

Blood Diamond

Gone Baby Gone

Crazy Stupid Love

Last of the Mohicans

Braveheart

Unforgiven

Gran Torino

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

The Sixth Sense

The Notebook

Dead Poets Society

The Shawshank Redemption

Pirates of the Caribbean

Avatar

Crash

17 Again

Madagascar 2

The Incredibles

One Idea that Will Change Your Life

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If you let go of preconceived notions, if at the very least you view this as a self-contained thought experiment, you’ll come away changed.

Galen Strawson’s Basic Argument is very simple and therefore elegant. The paper offers some important insight about moral responsibility.

What? Moral responsibility? Yawn.

Punishment takes on a new meaning when we consider the Basic Argument. (Source: Christian Graphics)

This is serious. The world’s penal systems rest on the concept of moral responsibility. Most folks judge other people’s behavior standing atop the foundation of moral responsibility. You’ll understand how powerfully this concept impacts your life once we get into it. So without further ado…

The Basic Argument goes like this:

1. You do what you do, in any given situation, because of the way you are.

2. In order to be ultimately responsible for what you do, you have to be ultimately responsible for the way you are — at least in certain crucial mental respects.

3. But you cannot be ultimately responsible for the way you are in any respect at all.

4. So you cannot be ultimately responsible for what you do.

(Incidentally, Mr. Strawson does an excellent job of presenting his own work here at the NY Times)

Fooey! you say. That’s just a way to shirk one’s responsibility, to justify bad choices!

Look. Nobody is ultimately responsible for what they do, yet people make great decisions all the time. This argument isn’t going to change that. In fact, this argument will change very little, except some people’s understanding, those people whose experiences have taught them to value logic. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

Let’s take it a step at a time.

You do what you do because of how you are. We probably won’t disagree here. Why else would you do what you do? Because of the way someone else is? Of course not. You might eat chicken curry because you like it. You detest horrible pop music because you always have. You choose to learn BASE jumping because you have the inclination and because caution isn’t hardwired into your genes. Every predisposition and preference and decision you make is a product of who you are.

It would be a hard sell to say: I do what I do not because of the way I am but rather because fairies tickle mushrooms, or because my parents messed me up (both of which would suggest somebody else was responsible for what you do anyway).

I rock climb because that’s an activity I enjoy.

I write because that’s an activity I find stimulating.

I floss my teeth because I’m afraid of gingivitis.

I mentor a kid because it’s rewarding to help somebody.

I gulp down water because my experience and instinct taught me it quenches thirst, and I want to be quenched.

I do all these things because of who I am. Simple as that.

Can you think of any other reason you would do what you do OTHER THAN THE WAY YOU ARE? If so, please tell me.

Now, to be responsible for your actions, you must be responsible for who you are. As we just saw, you do what you do because of who you are. If that’s true, and if you’re going to take responsibility for your predispositions and preferences and decisions, you must be responsible for how you are. In other words, you must have had some role in creating yourself.

Wall-E, like each of us, was created by the forces that shaped his “brain.” He didn’t create himself.

Ah. Here comes the crux of the argument: nothing can be causa sui – nothing can create itself. At first blush, that’s not hard to believe. I mean, a robot can’t create itself. A lamp can’t do so. A panda isn’t going to give birth to itself. And so on, including human beings. You didn’t make yourself.

People begin to really take issue with the argument here, because we have the feeling, some unreasoned yet seemingly irrefutable sense, that we play a role in choosing who we are. However, because nothing can create itself, it becomes obvious that two things claim responsibility for creating the “me” which is ultimately responsible for my choices: 1) my genes, 2) my earliest experiences. In fact, we don’t get to choose either one, so this takes us to the last point in the argument: if you cannot be ultimately responsible for who you are, you cannot be ultimately responsible for the things you do, and therefore, moral responsibility is impossible.

But, you might want to claim: I choose whether to do wrong or right, or you might say: I make the choice between stealing food or paying for it. Yes, you do, and always your choice is based on who you are, and since you can’t create yourself, you’re not ultimately responsible for what you choose. We do, of course, have an intrinsic sense of responsibility for our decisions, at least those of us with a conscience. Yet this is something also inherited from our genetic makeup and life experiences and therefore something for which we’re not responsible.

The trajectory of our life can be selected, but the decisions always will be based on previous life experiences and innate proclivities that we didn’t independently select, so this proximal sense of responsibility is only illusion. It’s an illusion so powerful that we grant culpability to every human being that might treat us well or ill. Though we have good reason to do so in many cases (such as promoting beneficial behavior and protecting ourselves against dangerous circumstances), that doesn’t mean we’re correct in assigning praise or blame.

Take any action somebody performs. Ask whether the decision was a product of who she is. Inevitably, any behavior consciously performed (any behavior done intentionally, because what else would we want to hold her accountable for?) will stem from who she is. Since she can’t ultimately be responsible in any way for who she is, she can’t be ultimately responsible for what she’s done.

Charles Whitman: Suffered a brain tumor that turned him into a murderer.

Here’s an apt example that serves to show how our choices – those decisions that seem to be made with independence and freedom – are simply products of wiring. An intelligent man began feeling ill. He noticed dramatic changes in his own emotional stability, his thinking. Hours after killing his wife and mother, he climbed into a bell tower and shot pedestrians down with a case of guns before being gunned down by the police. In his suicide note, he wrote that he couldn’t provide a logical explanation for his behavior and asked for an autopsy. The medical examiner found a tumor in his brain that impinged on the amygdala, a region of the brain “involved in emotional regulation, especially of fear and aggression.” It’s a simple case of a man carrying out decisions that were a product of an altered state of consciousness, one caused by a bundle of anomalous cells. (Read the full Atlantic article here.)

The above is an extreme example, but it’s nevertheless appropriate because we are each and every one of us like this man – products of circumstances beyond our control. We inherited these neural structures. We were exposed to certain stimuli that shaped our personalities. Brain tumors strike at random all the time, something for which nobody is culpable. That is who we are.

So I can do whatever I want? I can steal or kill or maim without being responsible for it?

The answer hinges on the idea of the self, the concept ME. You – your experiences and genetic inheritance – are responsible, though you’d like to think there is a self separate from the mechanics of the brain. But remember, that brain in no way created itself, so it is the experiences and genetic inheritance that are ultimately responsible for the actions you’d call your own. In this society and in any society that I’d want to call home, we won’t allow a bundle of experiences and genetics to commit theft or murder or assault without recourse. Yet at the same time, to place blame verges on cruel or even downright barbarous when the criminal is an instrument of circumstances beyond his control.

Tune in to a future post about real-world consequences of the Basic Argument. And in the meantime, take a shot at putting a hole in the Basic Argument. I dare you.

Food Sensitivity and the ALCAT Test

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I suffered dermatitis for more than ten years, forced to treat the symptoms with an ever greater amount of toxic chemicals. Determined to find the root cause, I visited my doctor yet again. He said, “Just keep using the medication. It works, right?” A more enlightened or at least more thorough doctor recommended the ALCAT Test, a food sensitivity inventory. This test is an objective analysis of immune response when exposed to a panel of pure food materials.

ALCAT literature says, “The ‘wrong’ food, although ‘healthful’ for most people, will induce inflammation. The immune system aims to damage the food, which it mistakes as a harmful invader, such as bacteria, parasites, or virus, but also ends up damaging our own body.”

Food intolerance has been linked with many conditions, from migraine headaches to asthma to arthritis.

My new doc sent in a sample of my blood. Three weeks later, a two-part personalized report arrived (at great expense). According to their booklet, “The ALCAT Test diagnostic system is designed to electronically measure changes in cell size and volume when your blood is incubated with the test substances. These measurements are plotted on a graph and compared to a ‘Master Graph.’ The Master Graph is a chart plotted from the measurements obtained when a sample of your blood is treated identically but without being exposed to the test substances.”

Basically, when immune cells respond slightly to a food, that food is grouped in the Mild Intolerance or yellow category. More powerful responses fall into Moderate (orange) and Severe (red) categories. Foods that produce no response are considered Acceptable Foods. (It’s worth noting that this is NOT an allergy test.)

Rewind two months. My wife had sent her blood for an ALCAT test. Her report came back, indicating two foods in the severe intolerance category, one of them eaten regularly and never suspected in our hunt for a culprit: celery! She cut celery from her diet and enjoyed a full and almost immediate recovery from allergy-like symptoms.

Excellent. With ALCAT’s reliability confirmed, we gritted our teeth and shelled out another $650 (what are credit cards for?) to have my blood sent in for evaluation.

The results were startling. My unacceptable food list was a lot longer. And I ate many of these foods almost daily.

Severe Intolerance (red): Acorn squash, asparagus, cashew, egg yolk, lamb, lentil bean, mushroom, peach, pear, raspberry, shrimp, strawberry, tuna.

Moderate Intolerance (orange): Baker’s yeast, bay leaf, beef, bell peppers, black-eyed peas, brussel sprouts, butternut squash, carrot, corn, cow’s milk, fig, garlic, jalapeno pepper, kelp, kidney bean, mackerel, okra, peanut, pistachio, pork, salmon, sunflower, tilapia, wheat.

Mild Intolerance (yellow): Apple, apricot, beet, black pepper, black and green tea, buckwheat, caraway, cardamom, catfish, cauliflower, celery, chamomile, chick pea, chicken liver, cinnamon, coconut, cottonseed, cranberry, cumin, dill, endive, fava bean, fennel seed, fructose (high fructose corn syrup), grape, green pea, halibut, honeydew, kale, kiwi, lobster, mussel, oregano, papaya, portobello mushroom, pumpkin, safflower, sardine, sole, soybean, squid, sweet potato, tomato, turkey, turnip, veal, walnut, white potato, wild rice, gluten (barley, malt, rye, spelt, oat).

Part one of my ALCAT test result.

Wow.

This report hit me hard. I eat many of these foods. You probably eat many of these foods. Imagine your diet without them. What’s left? Thankfully there was some good news. My Acceptable Food (green) list is pretty long, and they sent along a four-day rotation diet chart:

Part two.

My doctor said no more eating out because these are too many ingredients to control for. He said no red foods for at least six months. No orange foods for three to six months. Yellow foods should be avoided, but if impossible to eliminate, work them into my diet on a four-day rotation.

I hope to resume eating some of these foods eventually. The ALCAT literature says, “It is believed that once an offending food is removed from the diet, the body becomes hypersensitive to that food for about twelve weeks… After the twelve weeks, the hypersensitivity is thought to decline.” Severe intolerances may never go away.

Looking Ahead

I need to make some big changes. But I have a valuable goal in mind: heal my body’s chronic inflammatory response that’s been plaguing me for years, and maybe in the process, add some years to my life. I’ve started the new diet today, May 13, 2012. I will update my health status in the comments section below over the next half year to demonstrate whether this whole strategy is worthwhile.

In the meantime, consider this statistic: “Food sensitivities or intolerances affect over 80% of the population.” Check out some of the testimonials below and on ALCAT’s website. Ask yourself if the cause of a chronic health issue might be the raspberries on your cereal or the tuna on your sandwhich.

Cause for Hope? Testimonials:

“This program has positively changed my family’s life forever…”

“I started the eliminating the sensitive foods and eating only the good ones. Two days later my acid reflux was gone. The swelling and bloating of my stomach had disappeared…”

“It has changed my life…”

“I’ve seen very good results with the ALCAT Test and often recommend it to the athletes I work with.”  –Joe Rogowski, Strength and Conditioning Coach, Orlando Magic

“I wanted you to know the changes that a couple of my patients had in their lives after following the ALCAT guidelines. One patient, an 11 year old boy with autism also suffered from a body rash that never went away…it went away after a week of following the diet guidelines. Another patient a 35 year old woman with frequent (20 x/day) urination and urinary incontinence resolved completely after 4 weeks on the dietary program changes…this after three other doctors…multiple meds and multiple cystoscopies.”  –Dr. Blyweiss from Florida

“I am 6-weeks into the elimination and rotation and the results have been nothing short of a miracle! I have lost 13 pounds, my skin is clearing up, I sleep well, digest well, feel strong and have a lot of energy. I realize now that I have had food intolerances all of my adult life – I am only sorry that it has taken this many years to finally get to the cause of my health problems.  If I had only known that good health was really so simple to achieve.  Thank you, ALCAT!”

Top 5 Tips from the 2012 Las Vegas Writers Conference

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Sam's Town, Las Vegas

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Some authors discover powerful sparks in the quiet of parked cars or eating an apple under the Arc de Triomphe every morning (as suggested here). But for the typical explorer of words and stories, stepping out of the cocoon of a … Continue reading →

Haunted Landscape

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The Portal, the Colorado River's western outlet from the Moab Valley.

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Above my hometown beside the Colorado River, lies a beautiful trail with a history dark and true. The Portal Trail climbs nearly 1,000 feet, starting riverside and ending atop Poison Spider Mesa. From the alluvial plain, hikers and bikers ascend … Continue reading →

An Argument for Turning Off the News

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The amount of misery in the world remains strikingly steady over time. People around the world are maligned or even destroyed because of their religion, skin color, gender, size, sexual orientation.

What can the average person do about the overwhelming pain and strife riding with us through time? Yes, a special leader can step up and make substantial changes. Yes, we need to work together for a better society. But do we need to know about every atrocity, every crime, every time human depravity wells up from dark places?

Our media – sensationalist, rooted in human instinct, and efficient – broadcasts injustices over our shrinking planet for all to see. Nicholas Kristoff, my favorite columnist, travels the globe to report on humanitarian crises, human rights abuses by governments and nations, domestic crimes. Exposing vile circumstances helps us cap the quota of pain on Earth. But how much can you or I do about the fact of human suffering?

Though I disagree with Mother Teresa on some fine points (like women’s health and theism), I agree with her here:

“What can you do to promote world peace? Go home and love your family.”

– Mother Teresa

In fact, this post will be peppered with the sister’s jewels of wisdom, because she spoke robustly on the topic: ACT LOCALLY. We cannot save every little boy and girl from starving or suffering. We cannot prevent every rape. We cannot guarantee that every human brain is wired without glitches that might create sociopaths. But I can watch out for my friends. I can lend a struggling family a little support. We can embody upright values in our community.

Action

Sometimes I ask myself, how much of my life should involve the contemplation and absorption of foul narratives? Never before has so much information been so readily available. According to some calculations, we’re inundated by more than 174 newspaper’s worth of information every day. As pointed out in this article, a hundred years ago, an individual would have been lucky to read fifty books in a lifetime. Now news streams to us via telephone and TV and computer at ever faster speeds. Those innumerable horror stories aren’t a world away, they’re staring at us from a smart phone. That’s a good thing insofar as we can do something about it. But we can’t do something about everything. Mother Teresa knew it. She said, “If I look at the mass I will never act.”

We may receive the equivalent of 174 newspapers of information every day, but much of this news is bad news. And we are missing out on two things. First, we too often fail to see good news. Second, our local problems are overridden by more shocking developments that are not only out of our reach but unrelated to our lives. Meanwhile, that local youth program lost its funding. A homeless person froze to death in the slues last week. That neighbor kid went hungry all weekend until he could get back to school for state food.

A Hero in my House

My wife recently inspired me with her embodiment of Sister Teresa’s suggestion: “Do not wait for leaders; do it alone, person to person.” You see, we work in a school district, matching at-risk youth with volunteer mentors who boost these kids’ self-confidence, social skill, and school attachment. Each day, Megan supports these matches that, as one mentee put it, gives kids “a reason to get up and go to school, and a reason to feel better at the end of the day.” Still, Megan identified one kid to whom she could give something extra. This kid had been truant 75% of the first month of school. He never exercised. He was bullied for his weight. He was depressed and lonely and without hope.

Megan started exercising with him, taking him on walks around the school. She began pumping him up with a mantra: Come to school every day – I can do it, I know the way.

She would start: Come to school every day. He would finish: I can do it, I know the way. Rain or shine, she’d walk laps with him. Busy or tired or stressed, she always made time.

John’s class was scheduled to go on a field trip today, a hike to Delicate Arch. It’s a mile and a half uphill climb to the most incredible vista in Arches National Park. A month before the hike, it became obvious; this field trip would defeat John. He hadn’t ever been on a hike up steep slickrock. He hadn’t walked even a mile before. Chances were good that he’d have to stop with an aide and wait for his class to come back down. He wasn’t going to make it.

Over the last four weeks, Megan upped the length of their daily walks. She started talking him through visualizations of what the trail would be like, the terrain, the rock formations, his progress. They found games to pick up his pace, chasing each other’s shadows, playing tag, letting other kids join in, asking a friend to bring her dog for a walk. John loved Maya, and that happy dog pulled him by her leash, running through campus and over to the church lawn and across the nearby park, leading the panting kid toward better health.

Field Trip

The big class trip. Megan and John left early in our car, to get a head start. Megan talked with John about pacing, and she agreed to carry along his golden Pokémon card so he could hold it during their breaks. Half way up the big hill, John and Megan watched the bus pull into the parking lot below, the kids stream out into the morning sunlight. John climbed to his feet and started going again, remembering from their visualization exercises, “We’re more than half way. Soon there will be a ramp of slanting rock.”

They took a few more breaks. They carefully navigated an exposed ledge. Megan watched John’s face as they rounded the last bend and got a look at the iconic vision of Utah, the most spectacular rock feature of the West. John stopped. “Oh, WOW!” He didn’t think it would be so big. He didn’t realize he’d be so close. Visualization hadn’t captured the improbability of this rock formation.

John, left, enjoying the view of Delicate Arch, Arches National Park.

A little while later, his class showed up, kids panting. “Wow!” a girl exclaimed. “How did you get up here so fast, John?” He just beamed, the happiest kid on Earth.

A Cup of Light

John hasn’t missed a day of school in months. His mom reports, “This is the happiest I’ve ever seen him.” His grades are up. He’s gaining more friends in his class. A few days ago, John said, “School is better now, because Megan walks with me every day.”

Where will the average, extraordinary person do the most good? Locally.

I vow to read a little less bad news. I vow to be more like my wife. I vow to live more like Mother Teresa:

“Never worry about numbers. Help one person at a time and always start with the person nearest you.”

WHY RISK?

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Horse & Rider 1

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Horseback riding. Ski jumping. Motorcycles. These are the avocations of my immediate family members. My mom began riding horses as soon as she could walk, and at sixty-five, she still loves to gallop through pastures and over rough logging roads. She … Continue reading →

AMNESIA Goes to Court

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The woman’s insurance company respectfully informed me that I still owed $2,650 in damages. My head shattered the Nissan Pathfinder’s windshield, my bike scratched the body panels, and my torso tore off a side-view mirror. Somebody had to pay for this. “We are looking to you for full reimbursement of the Net Loss. Very truly yours, Greg McDonnell, Claims Representative.”

Their letterhead assured me of a commitment to excellence: “Insurance that starts with you.”

The letter came just a few weeks after I started eating again. My jawbone had healed. My short-term memory had improved so I could remember a little bit of what happened in the previous day. I was creating new memories and beginning to understand just how much I had forgotten from the last two years of high school; college classes were tough.

The letter went into the trash where their other claims had vanished.

Some people decry our overly litigious society. I’m one of them. I recently read about an accused murderer suing two of his former hostages after being shot when they escaped and informed police of his whereabouts. A lady sued Universal Studios after being too scared in their haunted house.

However, the lawsuit is a bulwark against corporate turpitude and lawbreaking by individuals, and many claims merit attention. For example, U.S. states won a multi-billion-dollar settlement from cigarette makers. Countless individuals have been favored over corporations and other individuals for illegal behavior. Going to court isn’t fun, but sometimes it’s the only gesture that will be understood and the only recourse in seeking justice.

Witnesses said the sound of impact was memorable.

A new letter said the insurance company would seek damages to its client’s automobile in court.

I didn’t know what to do. I went to the person I most trusted at the university, my professor of religious history who had taken me under his wing. Professor Stein welcomed me warmly to his office, sat down in an old, stuffed chair, and held the letter out to read. His great beard wobbled as his lips sped silently over the words. I gave him the police report too. While he read, I studied his observant Jewish attire, the tassels from the tzitzit worn under his black jacket, a black hat on the coat rack.

“This is absurd,” he said, waving the letter. “She hit you!”

“What should I do?”

“I will contact a friend about this. The best lawyer in Vermont. We’ll see what he says.”

Countersuit was what he said. We met in one of the tallest buildings in downtown Burlington, right next to the courthouse. James Rivlin reviewed the accident report and explained that I could sue the driver.

“What are your goals for this lawsuit?” he asked.

“I don’t want to pay for the damage to the car. And I suppose her insurance company should get the message that this is wrong. Originally I just wanted to move on with my life, to put the whole thing behind me. But now that they’ve dragged me back into this crap…”

“If you sue for the maximum liability coverage, only her insurance company will have to pay. The driver won’t have to pay anything. For her policy, that’s three hundred thousand dollars. It’s a good case, and Professor Stein is a friend. We can do the work pro bono.”

“Um. Okay.”

Once the process was set in motion, it gained its own momentum. I occasionally stopped by the Rivlin offices to work with an investigator, Brian Stone. He wrote everything down with a gold mechanical pencil. Everything. Whenever he made a mistake, he paused and erased and rewrote. Other than the occasional meeting, I didn’t have much to do. My lawyers collected documents from police. They scheduled and carried out depositions.

Yay for helmets.

Later, the insurance company’s lawyers deposed me in a long interview in a Boston high-rise, during which I mostly said, “I don’t remember,” or answered yes or no without embellishment. My lawyers patted me on the back when we left. “I wish every client gave such concise answers,” Brian said. But it was only the truth. I didn’t remember anything about the accident. All else was merely conjecture.

During a grueling two-day evaluation in Brookline, a psychiatrist ran me through a gauntlet of tests. Math problems, puzzles, reciting lists of words from memory. A computer screen threw colors at me, and I had to press the spacebar when it blinked green. I drew charts from memory.

Several weeks later, her ten-page report arrived.

“Daniel’s rate of processing visually-presented material is impaired… He scored below the 1st percentile in comparison to others of his age and education…  Daniel was also impaired in his performance of the ACT, an aurally-presented task that is quite sensitive to difficulties with working memory, divided attention, and speed of processing… His subjective complaints of ongoing memory problems are therefore borne out not only by his inability to recall specific information from events occurring before and after his accident, but also by scores on formal memory tests that reflect a level of performance that is inconsistent with, and significantly lower than, premorbid ability.”

After getting fixed, this bike went on to carry me around Burlington and Yosemite National Park. Then my best friend Jed bought it from me. After a couple years of use, he passed it on to my brother, who owns it to this day.

And in the conclusion, she wrote: “The pattern of results suggests that Daniel may have sustained a blow to the left fronto-temporal region, affecting his working memory for verbally-presented material, followed by a more posterior blow to his right temporo-occipital-parietal area, affecting visual information processing and encoding. Reduced finger tapping with the right dominant hand also raises the likelihood of involvement of the right motor cortex.”

     Lower than expected.

     Deficits.

     Diminished. 

      <1st percentile.

      Poor performance. 

     More errors than expected.

     Impaired. 

     Impaired. 

     Impaired.

What price tag can be put on the inner workings of the mind? What value do our memories have? Would $300,000 make things better? Would I recoup full function even if I won a million dollars in court?

Of course, the answer was no.

The final line of the report wasn’t cheerful. “Since these deficits are still apparent over a year post-injury and given the severity of the injury initially, prognosis for a full recovery to premorbid levels of functioning is guarded.”

The court date drew near. I borrowed a sport coat and tie from my father. My mother bought me two pairs of pants and two shirts. I borrowed my stepfather’s shoes, which were a little tight but polished to a sheen. So familiar were they with my running clothes and beat up college wardrobe, Brian and James breathed real sighs of relief when I arrived at the courtroom in a mélange of borrowed attire.

“Dan is entirely realistic in his expectations. I have never had the impression that a large financial recovery is of great importance to him.”
–James Rivlin, Esq.

The defendant hadn’t shown up for the jury selection, but the insurance company’s lawyers were there.

Potential jury members filed in, a gloomy group of individuals who cast me sidelong, unfriendly looks. Who could blame them? They were torn out of their regular lives to judge a case that existed only because of an insurance company’s greed. After some preliminaries, the judge asked to talk with us in her chambers.

Thus began the arbitration. “Surely you can come to a settlement without going to trial,” she said. Judge Carter was a stately, gray-haired woman with a no-nonsense, penetrating gaze. She told us the insurance company was prepared to pay fifty thousand dollars to settle. My lawyers said no. Judge Carter went away to talk with the defendant’s attorneys in another room. I sat uncomfortably at the conference table, waiting in silence for their counter offer. Brian looked through some documentation. James gazed off to some other time and place. He said, “You’ll get a third of whatever they offer. One third will go to your health insurance company, and a third will cover our fee.”

The judge came back. “Sixty thousand.”

James looked at me. He looked at the judge. She looked at me. I shrugged.

“I think we can get more,” James said. He talked with the judge about our case. I spoke up a little, but I mostly let the attorneys do the spinning.

“You look healthy. You sound healthy,” the judge said to me.

“As Mr. Rivlin mentioned, I have memory problems.”

“A panoramic radiograph showed a horizontal, minimally displaced though well positioned, compound fracture at the inferior aspect of the vertical ramus.”
–Oral surgeon

“Okay.”

“And I had my jaw wired shut for five weeks. I couldn’t eat for more than a month.”

“There! See his pain and suffering! We should be going for more money!” James cried, as if my broken jaw were the real tragedy.

The judge went away.

She came back. “Ninety thousand. It’s their final offer.”

“A moment with our client please.” When Judge Carter was gone, Mr. Rivlin said, “What do you think, Daniel? Ninety thousand. We could get nothing if we go to court.”

“Or we could get more,” Brian pointed out.

“Let’s be done with it,” I said.

A month later a check arrived for $28,865.97. I’d never seen so much money in one note. I bought a used car. I spent thousands on travel and adventure and climbing equipment, determined to use the insurance company’s money to build up a new reservoir of memories. For three months I traveled across the country with my wife-to-be. We went to New Zealand and Thailand and Laos. Three years later, I backpacked across Europe with the last of my funds, and when they were gone, I kept going, never the same again.

But when are we ever the same?